


Years

by Anythingtoasted



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:47:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Years<br/>Pairing: Remus/Sirius, Lily/James<br/>Summary: AU fic as a gift for Mai, in five parts. An alternate timeline where Neville Longbottom was the Chosen One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years

_**10th March, 1991** _

_**  
** _

“Moony.  _Moony_. Awaken, Moony.”

Remus rolled over in the bed and buried his face in the pillow. Sirius leaned over him and spoke into his ear.

“Remus Lupin, you are thirty-one today.” He said, like Remus wasn’t painfully aware, and he groaned in response.

“Leave me to fester in peace, Pads. Please.”

Sirius, always an obedient creature, ripped the bedclothes off him instead; Remus, swearing, curled in on himself from the cold.

“You absolute bastard.” He muttered, muffled, into the mattress. Sirius laughed softly and slid an arm underneath him, so he could curl against Remus’ largely unresponsive (not to mention stroppy) back. He pressed his nose against Remus’ ear.

“Don’t be a misery, Moons. I got you a present.”

“Did you make me breakfast?” Remus asked warily, voice still muffled by the fact that half his face was against the bed, unwilling to relinquish sleep just yet.

“No.” Sirius murmured back at him, a yawn catching the end of the word, mouth against his neck. Remus sighed in relief.

“Thank god.”

Sirius pecked him quickly and pulled his arm out from underneath him, making absolutely sure that Remus was fully awake by almost throwing him off the bed as he did. “You still have to get up, though, you old fart.”

Remus, reluctantly, pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed. “I will kill you when you least expect it.” He said under his breath, and Sirius just laughed as he left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. Remus followed soon after, hand ready to shield his eyes from whatever Sirius had inevitably charmed the kitchen to do when he entered – but nothing came. Apprehensive, he lowered his hand and peered into the room.

“No streamers? No cake? No naked goblins?”

Sirius looked up from where he sat at the kitchen table, a small wrapped parcel in front of him. “The naked goblins were a one-time thing.”

“You keep saying that, but I never quite believe you.” He edged cautiously into the room, looking at the ceiling for ‘decorations’. “Did you honestly not charm this room? At all?”

Sirius shrugged. “I really honestly didn’t charm it. You asked me not to.” He shrugged, then smirked. “Are you disappointed?”

“Definitely not.” Remus looked under the table, just in case, before he joined Sirius there, perched on the edge of his seat (also just in case). Sirius leaned over and kissed him.

“Happy birthday, you crotchety old wolf.” He rubbed his nose on Remus’, making him recoil, mortified by this much sap so early in the morning. It had to be early, though, because Sirius had work at nine and he already looked guilty, glancing at the clock because it was only about an hour or so before he had to leave. 

“You are ridiculous.”

“Do you want your present or not?” Sirius tapped the wrapped box in front of him and Remus sighed.

“Maybe.” He paused. “Actually, yes. Please.”

Sirius grinned and pushed the box over to him. “I can read you like a book, Lupin. You might be Mr. Dignified Werewolf but even  _you_ can’t resist a pressie.”

Remus scoffed and took the box in his hands. He shook it. “Ssh. It’s not a book, is it?” he shook it again, warily. “It was an incredibly _rude_  book, last time you got me a book.”

“A good book, though. Got a lot of use out of it.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, bringing the box (which, judging by its neatness, had definitely  _not_ been wrapped by Sirius’ own hand) “An excellent book, but my mum wasn’t best pleased to see it.”

“Good way to let her know, though.”

“I dunno, if i had died from shame, we wouldn’t have needed to tell her in the first place.”

Sirius jostled him with his foot. “You didn’t, though. And besides, it’s too small to be a book, are you blind? Get on with it.” he paused when Remus continued to hesitate. “It’s not a bomb, I promise.  _Open it_.” He continued to jog his knee under the table, tapping his foot against the lino anxiously, and Remus, the small box between his two hands, finally started to rip open the paper, trying to ignore the fact that Sirius very clearly held his breath as soon as he did.  Apprehension rose in his gut; Sirius was not the best gift-giver, by anyone’s estimation. The book, years ago had, admittedly, been fantastic after a  _lot_ of apologising on Sirius’ part but all other presents from Sirius had either been poorly thought out, last minute, or just  _poor._ It wasn’t his fault; Sirius was a whirlwind and had no head whatsoever for dates, and ‘putting thought into things’ definitely wasn’t one of his strengths; Remus didn’t blame him, he would love whatever he was given; he just hoped that this time it wouldn’t explode.

The navy-blue wrapping, once Remus tore it open, revealed a further box, small,  a thick oblong of green, underneath. He looked at Sirius briefly (Sirius was, by this point, turning red from overexcitement) and then, pulling the last of the paper from it, held the box in his hand. It wasn’t heavy, lay flat in his palm, and on the front there was a brand or a maker’s name in gold embossed script, dated for the 1800s. Remus opened the box, and inside, nestled against tissue paper, was a watch. He let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s lovely, Pads.” He smiled at Sirius but, drawing his head away from the watch, was met with a face that was entirely crestfallen.

“You don’t understand it. Do you?” He said. Remus fumbled for words.

“It’s – it’s a watch, isn’t it? Tell me it’s a watch.”

Sirius laughed. “Of course it’s a watch, stupid. Actually  _look_ at it, though.”

Remus took the watch from its box and brought it close to his face. For all intents and purposes it seemed like it was exactly as he’d said – it was a watch, just a watch, wide-strapped, ticking softly in his palm, a thick leather band to encircle his wrist, the face and hands a soft gold. “I’m sorry, Pads, I’m completely lost.”

“It’s –“ Sirius looked embarrassed. “I was hoping you’d get it. It’s not  _a_ watch, it’s  _the_ watch.”

“Which watch, exactly?” Remus asked him, still holding it in his hand.

Sirius took it from him, and turned it over. “ _The_ watch. Your Dad’s.”

Remus frowned. “He lost it when I was younger. I told you.”

“Smashed it. Didn’t lose it.” Sirius sighed, as he was prone to do when confronted with a situation that required any semblance of thought or tact beyond what came to him naturally, “Rem, we’ve been together for thirteen years.” He said, smiling, and though Remus was still incredibly confused by the whole thing he returned it.

“Not exactly, Pads. Ten.”

“I don’t count the blips. You don’t either, you nonce. It was always you and me.” He handed the watch back. “We’ve been together thirteen years, and ten years ago, in January I think, I went to your mum and I asked her what you’d want for your birthday, because I’m so shit at gifts and we’d been together – I don’t know, three years by then, and everything was falling apart-“ his voice quietened on this, not wanting to bring up the war any more than they had to, then returned to normal volume quickly when he spoke again. “And she brought me this. Said your dad was going to leave it to you one day anyway, and you were going to be twenty-one so it just seemed – perfect. So I fixed it, and I was going to give it to you but then – what happened happened, and I was going to give it to you that christmas but I was still nervous that you hated me, and since then there’s never really been an occasion special enough, but you’re Thirty-one now and I just thought, maybe, it was time. I know thirteen years is lace and lingerie but I thought maybe you’d appreciate this a little bit more.” He looked sheepish for having given a speech, the corners of his eyes creasing.

Remus was speechless. He held the watch. “Well you know how much I like lace and lingerie, but nonetheless…” he didn’t know what to say. He brushed his thumb against the leather of the watch strap. “Thank you.” He finished earnestly, aware that the words were hardly enough. Sirius touched his arm and leaned close before kissing the side of his head.

“I’m glad you like it.” He said briskly, and patted his shoulder as he drew away. “I’ve got to get ready for work. You do like it, though?”

Remus nodded fervently. “Very much.” Sirius paused after he stood and, from behind Remus’ chair, bent down and pressed his nose against the side of Remus’ neck for the second time that day.

“I love you, you know.” He said, and Remus laughed, throat vibrating against Sirius’ nose.

“Go to work. I love you too.”

—-

  Harry liked his muggle friends. They were different to the magical kids; he liked the magical kids too, of course, but sometimes it was nice to be able to just slump off to the park and mess around and do stupid things, especially now that his eleventh birthday was so fast approaching.

He kicked at the grass by the side of the path as the boys around him chatted enthusiastically about a football match from the other night; he didn’t really follow football much, he thought Quidditch was much more exciting and neither of his parents cared a whit about muggle sports, but he could feign knowledge and interest based on what he’d picked up from conversations at school, and part of him suspected that most of his friends weren’t as up on their football as they claimed to be, anyway. He was grateful for not having to talk, today;  as his eleventh birthday got closer and closer an invisible pressure had started to crawl over him, growing progressively heavier each day, and when he was alone in his bedroom he’d taken to looking in the mirror,  _willing himself,_ saying in his head –  _Be magical. Please._

 With just four months to go until the Big Day he was sure his Dad had started looking at him differently; even at ten he could read a line in his Dad’s back that meant  _I’m disappointed._ (Or, at least, he thought he could.)

He was in the process of preemptively withdrawing from magic; just this morning his mum had offered to take him to Diagon Alley, something he usually enjoyed immensely, but today he’d just wanted to be ‘normal’. What was the point in being ‘extraordinary’, if he was going to end up excluded from both worlds? The idea of being non-magical, non-magical like his horrible auntie and uncle, separated from his magical friends and his dad’s friends and their whole world - made his heart seem to curl up in his chest.

He kicked along the pavement, still, the worry and misery evident on his face until one of his friends, a next-door neighbour, elbowed him in his ribs. “You alright, Harry?”

He looked up, surprised, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. “Yeah. Fine.”

The boy, David, wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure?” he shoved his hands in his pockets and bent to peer at Harry’s face. Harry nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.” He shrugged.

They waved as two of the boys broke off from the pack, a pair of kids Harry didn’t know well but who he saw in the park near his house sometimes. Godric’s Hollow wasn’t a big place – it was the sort of place where a person’s own business was hardly their own at all – but there were lots of children there, considering. It attracted young couples with its rolling hills, its sweet little churches, the way it always seemed to snow there at Christmas, picturesque in the cold. Harry’s parents loved it, but he was never so sure; it was so small that it sometimes seemed as if Harry himself could barely fit inside it. He followed David, boys splitting off from the pack like scales shed from a fish as they reached their houses, all of the boys waving cheerfully. Harry thought sometimes it might be easier just to be a muggle, that maybe if he’d never known about magic at all he might be happier in the altogether – but then he thought of his Dad, of Uncle Sirius and their little amateur Quidditch league, of how happy the magic made them, and he changed his mind. Then he thought maybe his dad would just have been better off without him. He and David reached the road just across from their houses and David suddenly stopped him. “I dare you to play chicken, miseryguts.”

Harry looked at the other side of the road, where his house beckoned. It wasn’t busy here; not many cars ever drove through the Hollow, as it was hardly a  bustling centre of industry with its single lonely Post Office. He saw the car coming up in the distance. “Nah.” He said, feigning nonchalance, as if the dare wasn’t serious enough for him to consider. 

David shrugged. “Fine, coward.  _I’ll_  do it.  _Again._ ” Harry watched him in envious awe as his friend scrunched up his face, his curly black hair bobbing in the mid-march wind. “Watch this.” David said proudly, and just as the car in the distance came within an inch of them he quickly darted across the road, the car missing him by inches. From the other side, the car honking furiously as it sped away, David waved at him mockingly. “Come on then!” he shouted, though the road was hardly wide enough to warrant it. Harry frowned, embarrassed. His face turned red as he looked up the road.

“I’ll do it!” he shouted to David, who looked skeptical.

“You  _won’t_ , Harry. You never do. Just come across, don’t be a twat.” He said the last word lower, wary that his mother might hear him utter something so rude so close to the house. Harry shook his head.

“No, I’m going to do it!” He waited for the car, red, going far too fast for a tiny lane like this, and braced himself by the side of the road, one foot off the pavement, legs bent, imitating the way his father stood before racing him down the garden. His hands trembled, so he clenched them into fists. The car drew close, seemed to roar as it got larger and larger. He was going to do it. If he couldn’t be magical, maybe he could bebrave. When it was no more than five feet away, Harry shot off from the side of the road and heard David make a noise of horror as he misjudged the distance entirely and everything else became a black and white blur.

Next thing he knew he was looking up at his Dad’s worried face, lying on their garden path. James, crouching beside him, was absolutely furious. David hung in the periphery, looking extremely guilty.

“What the- what on  _earth_ were you playing at, Harry?” James said as he helped him to his feet, and Harry’s entire body seemed to be vibrating, sensation running up and down each of his limbs like fire.

“He bounced!” David yelped, as if by accident. Then he covered his mouth. Harry stared.

“I what?”

His dad frowned at David. “You should be at home with your mum, Dave. It’s getting late.”

The boy looked even more sheepish and nodded, waving to Harry briefly and shouting, “Glad you’re okay, Harry!” in a high voice before skittering down the garden path and off to his own house. After he was gone all that remained was Harry and his Dad, and the (now definite) disappointment in his Dad’s brown eyes.

“Well?” James said firmly, “What were you doing?”

Harry fought the trembling of his own bottom lip. “We were – David – we were just playing a game.” He swallowed, then said quickly, unable to contain himself. “Dad, did I really bounce?”

James looked angrier. “Harry, you could have killed yourself. Me and your mum let you out with the boys because we  _trust_ you, alright? How can we trust you aren’t doing stupid things like that, now?”

Harry swallowed again, pinned by his Dad’s gaze. “I don’t, Dad, I promise, I was just playing a game, I dunno, It was stupid.” He swallowed again, thickly, and willed himself not to cry. He wasn’t used to being told off, and felt incredibly stupid now, especially because he was getting so upset. “Sorry, Dad.”

James’ expression softened only slightly. “You’re right, it was  _very_ stupid, and I’m not sure if I’ll let you out on your own again any time soon.”

“But Dad!”

“We’ll see what your mum has to say.” Harry blanched at the idea, but nodded, defeated. His Dad stood, and nodded at the house. “Come on. Tea’s ready, anyway.”

Harry followed his dad and summoned the courage once more. “Dad, did I really bounce?”

James glanced back at him. “Yeah.” He drew his mouth into a line but it trembled at the edges, and Harry thought that had he not known better, he’d say his dad looked just a little bit  _thrilled._ “Yeah, you did.”

“Oh.” Harry said quietly. “Wow.”

—-

“Alright, so, I haven’t exactly got you a present.”

Remus and Sirius cheered sarcastically in unison, and James pulled a face. Remus laughed. “Surprise, surprise. Your round next time we’re in the Cauldron, then?” They were in James’ living room in the evening, Sirius and James on the sofa, Remus himself in an armchair, leaning his face on one hand.

“That’s what I was going to suggest, yeah.” He looked pointedly at Sirius. “Go on, then, punkawalla. Chop chop. Drinks. They’re in the fridge.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “How come  _I_ have to go and get them?”

“Because _I_ bought them, it’s Moony’s birthday, and the fridge doesn’t like it when you summon them. Off you trot.”

Sirius grumbled but shuffled off the sofa and went into the kitchen. James settled in his seat, sighing. “How does it feel to hit the big three-one, then, Moony?”

Remus shrugged. “You’ll find out in about two weeks. Why ruin the surprise?” he said, then shifted in his seat, interested. “So Harry finally did magic?”

James sat forward excitably. “Yeah, the little bastard bounced. Bounced! I don’t even know how, but he bloody did.” He grinned, the said, hushed, “To be honest, I was a bit worried about him.”

Remus nodded. “I know. I think he was, too.”

James looked surprised. “You do?” he raised his head and saw Sirius coming back with the drinks, and clapped his hands. “Ah, here’s the boy with our refreshments.” He said, for Remus’ benefit. “Excellent.” Sirius clearly heard him because as soon as he’d passed them around (muttering, ‘birthday boy’ to Remus as he handed it over), he kicked James in the shin.

“Watch yourself,  _Dad,_ it won’t be your leg I kick next time.”

James raised his eyebrows at Remus and mouthed ‘ _Oooh!’_  as Sirius sat down again, next to him. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, we were talking about your godson and his now-definite magical skills!”

Sirius brightened at the very mention of Harry’s name. “What did he do? Your owl wasn’t half vague.”

James looked pleased to be asked, if only so that he could say it again. “He bounced. A car hit him and he bounced, all the way into the garden, boing, boing, boing.”

Remus gaped. “He was hit by a  _car?”_

“He was being an idiot. He’s in lots of trouble. The muggle kids, they play this game, I think it’s called ‘Chicken’, you’re supposed to run out in front of a car and try to get across the road before it hits you.”

“Flaming hell. He chose the right moment, then.”

“Yeah.” James shrugged. “It worked out okay, I suppose. Lily isn’t best pleased, though. It’s a good thing for him that she’s still on her shift at Mungo’s, or there would have been a lot more hell to pay.”

Sirius’ face was blissful. “He  _bounced!_ Oh, Prongs, and here’s me thinking you’d created a dud.” James snorted.

“You did not think Harry was a dud, you’re mad about him, and everyone knows it.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t love a dud?” Sirius said indignantly, as Remus looked on, laughing softly into his beer.

“That’s  _exactly_ what I’m saying, Pads, because it’s true.”

Sirius tutted. “I resent that.” He nodded at Remus. “You alright, Moons?”

“I’m good.” He smiled, but it was strained. He looked tired. James caught his hesitation and did quick calculations in his head, but the moon wasn’t for at least a week, now. “How’s Harry, then? Pleased?”

“Over the moon, if you’ll pardon the expression.” He winked at Remus, who rolled his eyes. “Can’t stop talking about it. Doesn’t even care that he’s in trouble.” He and Sirius, in their usual creepy, synchronized way, rolled their heads to face each other and sighed simultaneously. “We raised him right, Pads.”

Sirius, his sigh equally lovelorn, leant back into the sofa. “Disregarding authority. I’ve never been more proud.” He pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye, hands clasped to his chest. “We did good, Prongs. We really did.”

James thought Remus still looked strangely distant – the hesitation in his eyes, the slight pause before he laughed, but at least he was laughing. Maybe it was just the usual – thirty-one, one more year away from being a teenager. And if that was the case, he knew  _exactly_  how Remus felt. He raised his head when he heard shuffling behind them. “Speak of the devil. Why aren’t you in bed?”

Harry, caught in the act on the staircase, froze and then descended, a bit pink in the face. “Sorry, Dad, I can’t sleep.” He looked at their guests. “Hi, Remus. Hi, Sirius.”

Sirius leaned over the back of the sofa. “Alright, Harry? Your dad was just telling us you  _bounced_  today.”

Harry looked overjoyed, and nodded fervently. “Yeah.” He said, voice shaking, and Sirius looked at James pleadingly.

“Can he sit up with us for a bit, Prongs? It’s a special day.”

James frowned. “Alright, but only for a little bit. You’re still in trouble, Harry.”

Harry tried his best to look shamefaced as he nodded, but was betrayed entirely by the excited way he ran around the sofa and sat between his Dad and his godfather. Sirius shifted to make room for him. “How’re you feeling, then, Sprog? Feel grown up, now you’re a wizard?”

Remus coughed from his seat. “If being a wizard makes you grown up, you must be the biggest squib on the planet.”

“Shut up, Moony. Don’t be a birthday brat.” Sirius retorted, eyes still on Harry expectantly. Remus continued to look smug. “Harry?” he prompted, and the boy clasped his own hands nervously, and looked to his Dad for support.

“I dunno. I don’t really feel anything.” He frowned. “Should I? I mean-“ Sirius opened his mouth, looking mischievous, and Remus quickly interrupted him.

“No, Harry, you’re fine. Completely normal.” He glared at Sirius, who looked crestfallen by the missed opportunity to tease an eleven year old. “Are you excited to get your letter?”

Harry faltered. “Will I definitely get it now?”

James raised his eyebrows. “Well – yeah, kid. You’re a Potter. We’ve all gone to Hogwarts. You’ve been on the list since you were born.”

“Even though I might not have been magical?”

“Well-“ James shrugged. “We were sure that you would be. You come from  _excellent_ magical stock.”

Harry didn’t seem to twig that he was joking. “Oh.” He said quietly. He shook his head, expression strangely unreadable. “Dad, can I go and get a drink?”

James blinked. “If you like.” He glanced at Sirius when Harry pushed himself off the sofa, and said quietly after he’d left the room, “What’s up with him?”

Sirius, looking after Harry, shook his head helplessly. “Dunno, Prongs, he’s your kid. Hormones, maybe?”


End file.
